


zim gets a life

by thinkpink



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Fluffy Romance, Mild Angst, OOC, Other, ZaDr, ZaGf, a shitload of italics, hi skool, pop culture references, some canon some shit i made up on the fly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24420274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkpink/pseuds/thinkpink
Summary: Zim has never had the chance to ask himself what he really wants, but with no masters, he's cast adrift. It's hard not to gravitate toward those who know the truth about him.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	zim gets a life

**Author's Note:**

> the only thing canon about this is how much sense it doesn't make. just remember the plot is only a vehicle for the ship and try to enjoy the ride. heed the ooc tag!
> 
> this was supposed to be only 1 chapter but it started getting out of hand so I've split it into 2. the second part should be up within the week.

From pretty much the moment Zim had landed on Earth, Dib had been a pain in his ass.

After their initial meeting, when Zim had thought for sure his mission was compromised and he would be caught and dissected, Dib had been no threat to him. Because though Dib may have been bright enough to figure everything out, his classmates were not. They even went so far as to label Dib an idiot for spouting the truth.

The human population’s general lack of intelligence meant that Dib’s constant surveillance was less worrisome and more irritating. Like a fly finding its way into the home base – sure, it was gross and buzzed annoyingly, and sometimes he could shoo it back outside without much effort, but he wasn’t going to tear the place apart trying to kill it.

Zim had better shit to do.

For years Dib hounded Zim – setting up cameras anywhere and everywhere, camping outside of the home base and taking notes in a little flippy notebook, bribing GIR with candy for insider info.

Sometimes he got intel and sometimes he didn’t. Either way didn’t really bother Zim, because in the end, no one was going to believe the little earthworm anyway.

And eventually Zim stopped caring for other reasons.

His mission was a failure.

Nothing he tried was effective, and worse still, even if it had been a success, there was nobody who cared.

The Tallest stopped answering his communications years ago.

At first, Zim thought it was because something terrible happened. The Massive had been attacked, or worse, the empire had fallen!

Eventually, after intense upgrades to his voot cruiser, Zim had used the time off between skool years to travel back into Irken controlled territory. It was there he learned that Operation Impending Doom II had long since ended, and the armada had moved far beyond his reach, into previously unexplored territory.

After recovering from the shock, Zim returned to Earth, intent on carrying out his assignment. Just because the armada moved on without him did not mean that he could abandon his work. To return to the empire without finishing his mission would have meant failure. This…this wasn’t failure. This was just delay!

Zim committed himself to his task wholeheartedly, and with the help of GIR and an ingenious orbital laser of Zim’s own design, he conquered the planet – Dib powerless to stop him.

Of course, doing so revealed what Zim had been terrified to be true all along. Conquering Earth was useless. The Tallest still would not take his calls. They didn’t care about Earth – and they didn’t care about Zim.

Being in charge of the Earth was tedious. The humans were constantly crying to him.

“Oh, great leader, we are working as hard as we can!”

“Dearest master, we need food!”

“Brilliant ruler, please allow us to sleep before we drop dead!”

It wasn’t a difficult decision to relinquish his control, abandoning the palace that had been erected for him and moving back into his meager home base.

No one had been the wiser.

Idiots.

Dib, of course, had been aghast at the entire thing.

Zim was self-aware enough to realize the reason he even moved back into the stupid home base at all was to see how insane Dib was about it all.

“You took over the _world_ ,” he screeched, standing on Zim’s walkway, practically foaming at the mouth.

“Yes, yes, Zim is very impressive.” Zim glanced down at the tips of his gloves. He really needed a new pair.

“The _entire world!_ And—and, you’re just…back!”

Zim looked up at him, something he’d needed to do for the past few years, much to his chagrin. “Yes. I’m back. What’s your point, Earth monkey?”

“I…” Dib floundered. “Uh….why?”

“Because I live here,” Zim pretended to misunderstand.

“No, I mean, ugh!” Dib tore at his hair. “Why are you back here? Why did you give up ruling Earth? I mean, you finally managed it! I kicked and screamed every step of the way and like usual, no one listened to me, but you _managed it._ Why did the Irken armada give up?”

Zim wasn’t sure what expression he made, but a look of understanding came into Dib’s eyes.

“They don’t care.”

Gritting his teeth, Zim started to reply but Dib continued.

“Your leaders—the Tallest. They don’t even want Earth, do they? That's why they’ve let you fail out here so many times.”

Zim clenched his jaw and balled up his fists but said nothing.

Then Dib was laughing, so hard his shoulders shook, and moisture streamed from his eyes. He bent at the waist, heaving for breath before he straightened back up.

And this time when he stood before Zim, it was with his full height, his back straightened from its usual slope – the one borne of trying to look smaller around their more aggressive classmates.

Zim’s spooch throbbed in his stomach at the sight.

“God, Zim,” he chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “All this time…and for what?” 

He snorted and laughed some more, but this time it was more…manic. 

“It’s like my entire life since you showed up has been a total waste. None of it mattered!”

He grinned then, looking down at Zim, who could only stare back through his scratchy lenses.

“Well I guess you must know what that feels like, huh?” Zim’s spooch throbbed again, this time for a different reason. Yet despite this, Dib didn’t sound cruel. For once, it was almost like they were in on the same joke. A shared secret.

Zim thought briefly of punching Dib. A particularly informative “sex-ed” class had taught Zim that male humans were vulnerable between the legs, and Zim had a clear shot.

Instead, he just stood on his front porch, feeling sorry for himself.

Finally, Dib turned away, whistling a song with no discernable melody. When he reached the end of the sidewalk, he turned back.

“Welp, see ya at skool in the fall, oh fearless leader,” he grinned, flashing a sloppy salute, before turning towards his own home.

For a while after that, Zim was aimless.

What did an invader do when there was nothing to invade? No one to report to?

Irkens were designed to serve their Tallest, to meet goals and complete tasks!

Not sit around their base, eating candy and watching reality television with their slightly deranged robot.

That wasn’t all he did of course. Sometimes he went outside. Walked around the neighborhood, getting lost in his thoughts. Luckily, no one recognized him from his brief time as their alien overlord.

He wandered into shopping malls, spending not even a fraction of the massive wealth he’d accumulated during his time as ruler on whatever looked fun. Video games, giant stuffed animals, clothes.

The last one especially.

It was long passed the time for Zim to take off his Invader uniform.

When he was bored, he talked to the computer, who confessed to knowing about the futility of Zim’s mission from the start.

The computer. _His computer_ had known what a massive failure he was from the beginning and Zim had been too blind to listen.

It was his computer who suggested repairs to his _apparently defective_ PAK.

Yeah, his PAK was defective! And the Tallest had known the entire time and done nothing!

Zim was hardly shocked by their betrayal at that point but he was pleasantly surprised to find that with his repaired PAK came a growth spurt.

He wasn’t tall enough to challenge the Tallest or anything, but he was a respectable four foot eight. Only a little shorter than the shortest girls in his class.

Which raised another question.

Was Zim _actually_ going to go back to skool?

When he’d parted ways with Dib weeks ago, the pathetic Earth boy had promised to see him at skool, as if it was unquestionable that Zim would be there.

But why? It wasn’t like Zim needed to maintain a cover anymore. He was beginning to suspect he could walk around without any disguise at all and his neighbors would take it at face value.

Skool was awful. Boring, smelly, full of disgusting human children. Over the years they’d only gotten worse – aggressive, tall, driven by stinking hormones.

The only appealing part of skool was… Dib. Loathe as Zim was to admit it.

Dib was interesting. He was smarter than the other humans, except maybe his sister, who was smart but apathetic to an impressive degree. He’d gotten taller than most of his human counterparts as well, shooting up like a blade of Plookesian grass. Dib was also less slave to his physiological drives – no sports that involved hitting or shoving, no drooling over the opposite sex in a desperate attempt to mate.

And this summer, since the fall of his empire, was the longest Zim had gone without seeing Dib since probably the day he’d arrived on Earth. Dib even stopped jogging past the house every morning like he used to even though he _claimed_ it was the best jogging route through the neighborhood and had _nothing_ to do with spying on Zim.

It was weird.

“Computer, has there been any suspicious activity surrounding the home base?” Zim asked from his seat on the couch.

“I mean, what do you consider suspicious? Cause that creepy old lady across the street has been throwing squirrels into her neighbor’s yard and I cannot understand _why–_ ”

“No!” Zim huffed. “I mean towards us! Me!”

“Uhh…” The computer drawled. “Not really?”

“Really? No one’s been…running by the house at all?” Zim tried for nonchalant, but the upgrades to the perception drive in his PAK meant he picked up on the subtleties of the computer’s automated voice now. 

And its “Ahhhh” was very telling.

“No, no. No one has run by at all. Not even Dib.”

“I wasn’t asking about Dib!” Zim screeched, tightening the strings around his new pink hoodie until there was only a small hole for him to see out of. 

He didn’t know why he’d even asked. And he definitely didn’t stand in the upstairs window every morning, peeping down at the sidewalk, just in case. Definitely not.

Once, during an incredibly unbearable heatwave, Dib had foregone a shirt, and when he’d jogged past his chest glistened in the sun with disgusting sweat.

Zim had thought about it for weeks.

So really, he had no choice but to go back to skool. He had to keep an eye on Dib. Even if he wasn’t actively trying to expose Zim, it didn’t mean he wasn’t working on something!

And there was only one year left before all of the filthy Earth children left for college or the military or minimum wage slave labor.

Of course, the second he arrived, Zim regretted his decision.

Even with his newfound height, everyone still towered over him. 

And some instinctual part of Zim was driven to be deferent to those who were taller than him. He’d had no trouble ignoring those urges before, but his repaired PAK seemed unable to let it slide. He found himself stepping out of everyone’s way before they had a chance to move, trying his hardest not to inconvenience anyone of great stature.

Which was hard, with a hallway fall of almost adults.

“Oof!” Zim grunted, crashing into a locker as someone full body checked him.

The person laughed, gripping a football tight before throwing it back down the hall.

“Oh my god, Chunk, watch out! You almost killed a freshie!” Sara called out, her cheerleading skirt swishing around her tanned thighs.

Chunk laughed again, turning to look at Zim in full.

Zim narrowed his eyes back, fighting down the urge to submit and look away.

“Pfft! That’s not a freshman, it’s fucking Zim!”

A few people in the hallway turned to look and Zim held his head high.

“That’s right, it is I, Zim!”

Sara came closer, looking him up and down. “Oh my god, it _is_ Zim! Wow, I didn’t recognize you without the dress.”

She giggled, and a few of her cheerleader friends behind her laughed as well.

“It wasn’t a dress,” Zim hissed, annoyed despite himself. It’s not like he could explain to her that it was an Irken Invader uniform, a sign of pride, given only when earned.

“Well,” Sara shrugged. “Whatever it was, it was hideous. This is way better.”

Zim looked down at himself, at the slim black jeans and his favorite pink hoodie that matched his sneakers. She couldn’t even see that he’d left off his gloves for once since his hands were shoved in the pockets of his jean jacket.

And Zim hated it, this desperate need to please those taller than him, that had him preening under the compliment. For once he was grateful for the scratchy wig that kept his antennae hidden because he knew they were flat against his head in obvious delight.

It was ruined immediately of course.

“Oooh, Sara has a crush on Zim!” Someone called, whistling shrilly.

“Oh, as if!” Sara turned to whoever had spoken, her long shiny black ponytail whipping Zim in the face. The entire hallway fell apart with laughter.

Zim scowled, pushing past the crowd towards his locker.

Like _he_ had any interest in a pathetic dirt child! Zim! An Irken Invader!

The thought was like a balloon of skin melting water crashing on his head.

Zim _wasn’t_ an invader. Not anymore.

He let his head fall against his locker with a painful thud.

“I don’t know why you came back to this place,” a voice to his left spoke. “If I was an alien who’d lost all sense of purpose, the last place I’d be is _skool._ ”

“Who says I’ve lost all sense of purpose?” Zim returned, though his voice lacked bite. 

Without lifting his head from the cool metal, he turned to Gaz, whose locker had been next two his own for the last two years.

“I don’t need to stalk your life to see that,” she rolled her eyes, wrenching open the door. She placed her books inside carefully before closing the locker and looking back at Zim. “Did you get taller?”

“Taller than you,” Zim replied, finally opening his locker to throw his textbooks inside haphazardly.

“Yeah maybe if you wore high heels,” she scoffed.

“I am so taller!” Zim argued, though he didn’t actually know for sure. Gaz wore thick heeled boots, so it was hard to tell.

“Stand against the wall!” She barked, pushing at his chest until he complied. She pulled a sharpie from seemingly nowhere and swiped it at the locker above his head. “The wig doesn’t count.”

Then she turned her own back to the locker and marked above her head. When she stepped away, they both examined the marks to find Gaz’s almost two inches higher than Zim’s.

“No way! I demand a remeasure, you have boots on!” Zim grabbed for the pen but she held it out of his reach.

“You have shoes on too! Dib, which of us is taller!” Gaz shouted, turning to look behind Zim.

If they’d been uncovered, Zim’s antennae would have shot up straight in alarm. Deep in his guts, his spooch turned over sickeningly.

“Is that even a question?” Dib replied, laughter in his voice.

Zim, no coward, finally turned only for his mouth to drop open in shock.

Dib had gotten _even taller!_ He had to be over six feet now! And his arms had gotten thicker around and his chest wider and even his thighs—

“Oh holy shit, wait. Zim did get taller.” Dib was staring at Zim in surprise. “I didn’t think your people grew!”

Scowling, Zim slammed his locker shut. “Of course we grow, how do you think we have Tallest?”

Dib looked thoughtful. “Huh… I thought maybe they were just like that. Or like, older than you or something.”

“I am the same age as the Tallest, we were in the Invader Academy together and—” Zim cut himself off. Talking about this was making him angry and why did he even care to explain, it didn’t matter anyway.

Gaz and Dib both seemed surprised by Zim’s sudden silence. He supposed it wasn’t like him not to spill information without a care who heard.

Well, tough for them. That was before, when he’d been an Invader. Invader Zim. This was now. When he was just a random Irken on a planet light-years away from home. Just Zim.

A new Zim.

“I’m going to class,” Zim muttered.

“Wait!” Dib called after him. Zim turned to his rival and noticed the way that other people in the hallway turned as well. Noticed as their eyes followed Dib. Taking in the way his thick dark hair fell into his face, or how his black tee-shirt stretched tight around his biceps.

“Lemme see your schedule,” Dib asked, holding out his hand expectantly.

For once, Zim did not fight the urge to acquiesce to a taller being, merely handing the paper over without words.

“Hmm,” Dib looked it over carefully, eyes bright behind thick round glasses. “We have two classes together this semester. Oh, and you have World Lit with Gaz before lunch.”

All of that information pleased Zim. Gaz was easily the least irritating human he’d ever met, and Dib was… Well, Dib was another matter entirely.

Not that Zim was prepared to let that on. He yanked the paper out of Dib’s hand. “I could not care in the least that we have classes together. In fact, do us both a favor and sit as far from Zim as possible!”

His tone was biting and yet Dib smiled, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth.

“Sure thing, space-boy.”

Zim huffed, scurrying away to his first class.

Skool was as stupid as ever. The teachers were pathetically useless, nothing like the Control Brains which has uploaded all of the knowledge Zim would ever need in seconds. The fact that humans spent up to twenty years studying to know practically nothing was laughable.

And his peers were beyond help, more concerned with socializing than actually learning.

No wonder he’d been able to conquer the planet so easily.

Well, eventually. When he’d really put his mind to it!

Either way, a waste of time.

Zim was just starting to wonder why he’d bothered coming back when he had his first class with Dib.

He’d told Dib to sit as far from him as possible and that’s what he wanted, really! And when Dib did exactly as Zim asked, he was pleased. Totally happy.

Zim loved getting what he’d asked for.

But even far away in a classroom was still close enough to hear conversations. It was still close enough for Zim to eavesdrop on Jessica – who hadn’t given Dib the time of _day_ since they were children – asking Dib if he was doing anything that weekend.

“Uhh…there’s a Mysterious Mystery of Strange Mystery marathon this Saturday…” Dib offered somewhat hesitantly.

“Oh, that’s like, that interview show right? About bigfoot and ghosts and crap?” Jessica popped her gum loudly, her eyes never leaving Dib.

“And sometimes aliens,” Dib offered, his eyes sliding to Zim, who quickly looked away, willing his cheeks to stop blushing.

“Well, what are you doing after?”

Zim wasn’t watching but he could imagine the calculating look on her face. Jessica had been an unmitigated bitch since the moment he’d met her, and longer, he strongly suspected.

“It goes all night…” Dib replied.

Jessica huffed. “Well, what about Friday night? Are you going to the football game?”

Zim tried to tune it out, he really did. He’d watched enough MTV that summer, he knew where this was going, even if Dib was too clueless to have figured it out yet.

“I’m not really into sports,” Dib sounded apologetic about it and Zim wanted to vomit.

“Neither am I,” Jessica purred. “But we don’t have to watch the game…”

Now Dib sounded exasperated. “Then why would we go?”

Tallest, Dib was dense. How was this the smartest human on the planet? He couldn’t even recognize when a female of the species was attempting to initiate a mating ritual.

Jessica changed tactics. “Here’s my number, Dib. Feel free to call me sometime.”

Her gum popped again.

“O-oh! Uh, yeah, sure Jessica. Um, thanks!”

Smooth, Dib. Real smooth.

Zim turned his attention out the window for the rest of class, definitely not thinking about football games or what went on under the bleachers, according to MTV.

His next class was World Lit, and Zim arrived after Gaz, taking a seat next to her without really thinking about it.

She nodded at him, never looking up from her phone and the game she was playing.

“Heard this teacher is a joke.”

Zim fidgeted with the metal rings of his binder. “Aren’t they all?”

Gaz huffed a laugh, and Zim tried not to be pleased by it. Gaz wasn’t taller than him – she wasn’t! So there was no reason for his body to feel warm when he made her laugh.

The Membrane siblings made absolutely no sense though, so Zim didn’t bother questioning it.

“How’s GIR?” Gaz asked, unusually verbose.

“Annoying as ever,” Zim rolled his eyes.

“People seemed to like him when you two were running the show.”

Zim shrugged. “I guess there’s a certain…charm to GIR. Why are you so chatty?”

Gaz looked over at him, her fingers never ceasing their movements on the screen.

“Why are you wearing new clothes?”

It was a hard switch, and Zim felt unsure of himself. “Uhh, ‘cause I got taller… I needed something to wear.”

“You’re not even wearing your gloves though.”

Zim looked down to his hands, which were bare, the three claws currently retracted into the pads of his fingers. He quickly pulled them under the desk, shoving them into his pocket.

“So what? I didn’t want to wear them today.”

She cracked open one eye, scrutinizing him. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Her attention was already back on the game when the teacher walked in. Zim had never been happier to see an adult human in his life.

Zim sometimes forgot how smart Gaz was since she wasn’t constantly shoving it in his face like Dib. The upside to her was that Gaz knew how to leave well enough alone. She’d made her point – she didn’t need to harp on about it.

They walked to lunch together and found seats at their usual table.

Dib joined them almost immediately.

“Do I have something on my face?”

If Zim was feeling slightly like his old self, he would have used this opportunity to make a comment about Dib’s weird nose or his stupid glasses. Instead, he just shrugged not even looking up from the disgusting food-like product on his tray.

“Just your stupid glasses,” Gaz supplied and Zim internally cheered a little. 

He didn’t completely understand the concept of siblings, but if they were all like Gaz and Dib, he approved.

“No but seriously, like a pen mark or toothpaste or something? Because I swear people are staring at me.”

“Maybe they forgot how big your head is over the summer.”

Dib huffed, popping the tab on a can of poop cola. “It’s not that big. Anyway, I’m not being crazy or paranoid—”

“No one said you were,” Gaz interjected.

“—I’m positive people are staring at me. And like three people have asked me what I’m doing this weekend. It’s so weird.” He looked at Zim. “Did you do something to me?”

Zim scoffed. “If Zim had done something, you would know!”

“True, there’s no way you could pull anything off without me knowing,” Dib sighed.

“What—I took over the world! And you—”

“Yeah, yeah, we saw. Anyway, if you didn’t do something then I don’t know what’s going on. Maybe something in the water.”

Dib had already pulled a notebook out and started scribbling theories when Zim looked away. Sometimes he missed the privacy of elementary skool.

In middle skool, all of the skools in the area had merged together, and the number of filthy dirt children had multiplied. Around that time, Zim discovered it was easier to share a table with the devil you know than navigate the ridiculously complicated social mores involved in finding a different table to sit at.

In hi skool it was almost worse, with multiple middle skools converging into one massive skool mecha filled with even more repulsive children that now towered over Zim. Even now, the other end of their lunch table hosted a group of similarly unpopular dweebs who spent most of the day trying to look smaller.

Normally, Dib hardly blinked for how hard he kept an eye on Zim, ensuring the safety of the Earth and the human race or whatever stupid things he claimed to care about.

Today though, it was almost like Zim wasn’t there.

And for some disgusting, mortifying reason, Zim was bothered by it.

Sure, he’d decided not to rule the Earth, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a threat anymore!

Dib’s guard was so low, Zim could have flung a spoonful of mayo directly into his face.

Zim looked down at his spoon and considered it. A face full of mayo was probably a good deterrent for the students who kept trying to involve themselves in Dib’s life now that he’d gotten a little taller.

Dib was yelling before Zim even really realized what he’d done, standing up so suddenly that his tray skidded backward, knocking over his soda. It spilled all over the table.

“Dib, what the hell!” Gaz pulled her hand-held game system away from the liquid but couldn’t move in time to avoid the brown stain now spreading across her dress.

“It wasn’t me!” Dib looked at Zim incredulously, swiping at the gelatinous white mess on his face. Some of it had even gotten into his hair.

Zim looked behind himself, first to the right and then to the left. “Who did that?”

“God, I was _trying_ to be nice, as like, a thank you for not destroying the world but obviously I’m wasting my time,” Dib huffed, picking up his tray. “You’re exactly the same.”

“I do not need your _niceties_ , foul human thing,” Zim spat, suddenly angry. “I didn’t do it for _you._ ”

But Dib was already walking away, his cola still running off the sides of the table. Gaz stood up as well, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

“That was a dick move, Zim.”

It was then Zim looked down to see that his own lap was wet, the sticky liquid soaking through his new black jeans, spots all down the front of his hoodie.

Zim grit his teeth and fought the urge to sigh. He always did this. Things had been nice, _for once._ He’d been sitting at a table, not with friends but…people who didn’t run away the second they saw him coming. People who knew his secret and still made conversation with him.

And in true Zim fashion, he’d gone and screwed it all up.

He’d thought – he’d hoped – that with his PAK recoded and no longer defective that he might be...different. Better.

Normal.

But no, he was still the same screw up that ruined Operation Impending Doom. The same Irken that no longer had a tallest for direction and guidance due to his own incompetence.

The same Zim with no friends, no planet, no point.

Best of all, dirtying Dib up to turn pursuers off blew up in his face spectacularly.

Dib showed up to their second class together with clean, wet hair that dripped down his neck into the collar of the thin undershirt he’d stripped down to.

Zim had to listen to Dib stutter through being outrageously flirted with by Keef of all people.

The second Zim walked through his front door, he threw himself face-first onto the ground.

GIR quickly joined him. “Floor party!”

“No, GIR,” Zim said, but didn’t explain.

+

The days that followed were almost exactly the same, and though Dib eyed him warily when he sat down at the lunch table, beyond that it was almost like Zim didn’t exist. The brief moment when Dib had asked for Zim’s schedule, when Zim had almost thought they were…friends? It was like it never happened.

Which was fine! Zim didn’t want to be friends with filthy humans _anyway._

But he was starting to wonder if there was any point in going to skool in the first place. Or even staying on Earth.

Just because the empire didn’t want him didn’t mean there weren’t other places he could go. Places he could be himself, without fear of being caught.

Although Irkens weren’t exactly popular anywhere they went. Universal domination tended to upset most beings.

Zim sighed, face in his hand, as across the room Letty leaned over Dib’s desk, her breasts practically spilling from her top.

After an entire week of people aggressively pushing themselves at him, Dib had finally caught on to what was happening. Now, Zim had to sit through watching Dib try to flirt back, which was painful for a myriad of reasons.

“Dude, if someone was pushing their tits in my boyfriend’s face like that, I’d be makin’ a scene.”

Zim turned, confusion all over his face, towards the voice. A girl he vaguely recognized but couldn’t have named with a blaster to his head had both pierced eyebrows raised in judgment.

“Excuse me?” Zim asked, voice heavy with confusion.

“Letty. She’s drooling all over your boyfriend. And for once he’s not pushing her away.”

As one they looked over to where Dib was attempting to hold a conversation with someone he had absolutely nothing in common with while not staring noticeably down her shirt. The tops of his cheeks were pink.

“Boyfriend? The Dib-thing? What are you—and me, the mighty Zim! I don’t— is your brain rotting—”

The nameless girl held up her hands, eyes wide. “Whoa okay, point taken. Never mind then.”

“—why anyone would think—I mean, boyfriend! What even—we’re not—”

“Dude, okay, I get it. I just thought you two were going out. My bad.”

Zim huffed, all too aware of his burning cheeks. “I don’t even know you, and you make these claims—”

She snorted, pushing short brown hair behind her ears. “My name is Pip, and we’ve been in the same homeroom since freshman year. You’d know that if you weren’t constantly staring at Dib but whatever.”

“I don’t stare—”

“Riiiight, and I’m an alien from outer space,” she cackled at her own words, and Zim let her. He was very aware of his PAK filtering the native language, picking up on the contextual clues, assuring him that he _hadn’t_ been caught, she was joking.

This was what his PAK should have been doing all along.

Zim looked around the room, noticing that other students were watching him, varying degrees of interest on their faces. A few looked pitying.

“Does everyone think this?” Zim asked before he could stop himself.

Pip’s eyebrows shot up, silver hoops flashing in the light. “Uhh, I haven’t exactly taken a census but yeah. I’m pretty sure.”

Glaring at the other students until they finally looked away, Zim turned back to Pip.

“Why do they think this?”

“I mean, you’re always together. For as long as I’ve known you, but probably before that too, right? Did you guys go to middle skool together?”

On the desk, a pen spun between Zim’s fingers. “Elementary skool, too.”

“Thought so,” she nodded. “You’re always talking—”

“Arguing,” Zim spat.

“Well, it may be arguing but it looks like flirting. And, the way you’re _always_ staring at each other. It’s cute enough to be disgusting.”

Sweat rolled down Zim’s forehead, and underneath the wig, his antennae trembled. “That’s hardly—”

“Plus, I always see him waiting for you outside of skool to walk home. It’s so sweet.”

“To follow me! To watch my every move!” Zim’s spooch flipped, and he could almost feel his PAK vibrating, trying to process the emotions he was feeling. Feelings an Irken PAK was not built to handle.

Because though Pip was describing why everyone else thought that he and Dib were in a relationship, all Zim could see was the fact that they weren’t, despite everything.

Despite the fact that for the past how many years, Zim had spent more time obsessing over Dib than conquering the planet.

That for the first time in his entire life, he’d had something all his own, with no input from anyone else. The Tallest did not care about Dib. The Armada did not care about Dib.

But Zim.

Zim cared.

Way more than he’d realized until just that moment.

Someone giggled, and Zim’s face snapped towards the sound in time to see Letty scribbling something – her phone number, most likely – on Dib’s hand.

As if he didn’t have a cell phone in his pocket that could receive a text message right then. No, Letty needed to touch him.

And Dib was letting her.

Zim shot up from his seat, his pen clattering to the floor. All eyes were on him as he grabbed his books, rushing from the room. The teacher didn’t even look up from their desk.

Throwing his books into his locker, Zim ran towards the home base. He made it into his yard before he was vomiting, frothy pink liquid straight from his empty stomach. He fell into the grass, face down, and listened to his PAK whine.

He could have the computer recode him again. A complete system overhaul. A full purge.

Something deep in his guts throbbed at the thought.

A shadow fell over his face.

“Master, why are you in the grass?” GIR sounded particularly concerned, but Zim knew it was only passing fancy.

“Just contemplating my insignificant life GIR.”

“Sounds fun!” GIR threw himself into the dirt.

Zim looked up only enough to make sure he hadn’t landed in the vomit before pressing his flat face back into the dirt.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there – his PAK knew, if he cared enough to check, but he didn’t – before another, slightly taller shadow was on him.

“Heard you freaked out in class and made a big scene.”

“Did you know everyone thinks your brother is my boyfriend?” Zim spoke into the dirt, not bothering to lift his head.

“Since when do you care about what everyone thinks?” Gaz sat down in the grass with her back against the fence, legs crossed.

“I recoded my PAK,” Zim confessed.

Gaz was quiet for a minute, and Zim finally looked up. She nodded towards his back.

“You mean that weird backpack thing you take everywhere?”

“It’s fused to my body, so I don’t exactly have a choice. But yes, that.”

GIR pulled himself up from the grass, toddling over to Gaz, who picked him up and sat him in her lap.

“What’s recoding mean?”

Zim sat up and looked at the human on his lawn. She looked like she belonged there, holding his SIR unit. But that was the weird thing about Gaz, she could fit in anywhere.

He wondered what the Tallest would think of her.

“Shocking though it must be, Zim is not the perfect Irken Invader!”

Gaz snorted and Zim ignored it.

“My PAK was defective, and I have since had it corrected. Now, I am perfect.” Zim tried to sound confident, but it was hard with his own barf sitting not three feet away.

“If you’re perfect, shouldn’t you be like, invading something?”

Zim bristled. “I didn’t say I was the perfect Invader.”

She looked apologetic when she replied. “So, you got recoded and what now? Things work better? Those metal spider legs?”

The sun was beginning to set, and the shadow moving across the grass was a reminder that they were sitting outside having this conversation. His neighbors were oblivious, but he didn’t need to make it easy for them.

Without questioning the motives of his decision, Zim stood up and grabbed Gaz’s hand, dragging her into the base.

Once inside he stripped out of his disguise, throwing the wig and lenses onto the couch. Gaz took a seat next to them, GIR still cradled in her arms.

“I’m guessing this is important.”

Zim shrugged, pacing the floor in front of her. He’d never been this open with a human before – with anyone, really. His PAK was no longer buzzing with the strain of his thoughts, but his spooch was pounding in a sickening way.

The Gaz human was trustworthy. At least so much as she didn’t care enough to share Zim’s secrets. Not even with her brother.

Zim was finding it hard to believe she cared enough to even _be_ here.

But somewhere along the way, morning greetings and shared lunches had turned into something like…

“Are we friends?” Zim stopped pacing and faced her head on, antennae held high.

“Uhh yeah?”

“Truly?” Zim looked at her and found nothing untoward on her face. Just the usual piercing stare. Maybe a hint of curiosity — she was a Membrane after all. “That’s...good. Yes, we are friends. You are a friend of the great Zim!” 

“Does this have a point?”

Zim began pacing once more. 

“When Irkens are born we are fused with our PAKs, which give us not only tools with which to conquer worlds but also life! It, uh, also controls our thoughts but that’s less important—“

“That sounds kind of important, Zim.”

“Moving on! The PAK connects us to the Control Brains which ensure we are best Irkens the Empire demands! Sometimes, the PAKs are...wrong.”

“Defective.” The computer interjected.

Zim’s antennae shot up. “Zim is telling the story!”

“Saw-reee.”

“Anyway,” Zim huffed. “On Irk, defectives have their PAKs removed and their memories erased. Instead of doing that I kind of just...tweaked mine. Like a soft reboot!”

Gaz’s eyes lit up with interest. Technology was something she was interested in, whether she talked about it much or not. 

“Before, my PAK wasn’t synced with the Control Brains properly and now it is. But ever since, I’m having all these… _disgusting_ thoughts and I’m second-guessing every insignificant thing I do. It’s unacceptable!”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Sounds like feelings.”

“Ugh, don’t be gross!” Zim shuddered. “Irkens don’t have those _things._ All of our thoughts and external stimuli are filtered through our PAK and processed by the Control Brains. Emotions are for humans and other, lower dirt creatures.”

“Right, sure. Well if Ikens aren’t supposed to have _emotions_ and you are, maybe you didn’t fix your PAK correctly.”

“You question the mighty Zim!”

Zim’s voice rang in the air for a moment and Gaz’s silence was answer enough. 

“Fine, that’s–maybe possible. The Armada is...so far away now and I don’t–”

“Zim,” Gaz interrupted, her voice entreating. “It kind of sounds like you filtered out all the stupid and now you’re just–experiencing normal life.”

Finally ceasing his pacing, Zim moved to the couch and sat down. “This isn’t normal for an Irken.”

“Yeah well, your people. They kind of sound like assholes.”

Zim knew there was something wrong when his PAK didn’t push him to disagree with her. 

Maybe there was no fixing him. It wasn’t like Zim knew for sure if he’d reconnected to the Control Brains – it wasn’t like there was a link alert. He’d just based it off what the computer told him and Tallest knew. It wasn’t exactly Irk’s finest. 

Maybe Zim would always be defective, even with the upgrades. 

“Anyway, what’s all of this have to do with my brother?”

Zim tensed, his claws protracting as he gripped the edge of the couch. 

“Wait, wait,” she held up a hand. “The feelings you’re having. They’re for Dib?”

“I don’t–ugh–don’t call it that!” 

“And Dib spent all summer chasing around dumb paranormal crap because you were sulking in your house. So now that he’s like, not pathetically skinny anymore, people keep asking him out and you’re jea–”

Her words were cut off by Zim’s hands over her mouth, shoving roughly. 

“Don’t say it!”

Something wet touched Zim’s palm and he hissed, pulling his hands away.

Gaz was gleeful, her hooded eyes shining as she cackled. 

“Oh my god, this is _hilarious._ ”

“That’s it, Zim’s friendship has been rescinded. Get out of my base.”

She ignored him, her laughter winding down. “Jeez, Zim, I thought you were worried about something important.”

Zim watched her stand up, GIR bouncing from her lap and running into the kitchen, already humming loudly. 

“I’ll see you at skool tomorrow.”

“What?” Zim shot to his feet as well. “You’re just going to leave? You’re human, you’re supposed to tell me how to fix this!”

She walked towards the door, and when she spoke, her voice was full of mirth. 

“Zim, I’ve known you for a long time, and I’ve known Dib even longer. There’s no fixing this.”

+

That weekend, in the control chair deep down in the bottom of the base, Zim researched. 

A simple google search took him to academic papers on human emotions and how they responded to stimuli. The references of those papers led him to textbooks on psychological theory. 

After he’d grown bored of scientific speculations, Zim searched for popular books on love.

He was halfway through his third harlequin romance novel when his alarm for skool went off. 

“What!” Zim sat up suddenly, candy wrappers and cola cans clattering to the floor of his control center. “It can’t be Monday morning already–I don’t know if Tristan is going to rescue Angeline!”

“They always get rescued,” the computer sighed. 

Zim glared up at the ceiling. “What would you know?”

“I get _very_ bored stuck here all day.”

Throwing on the cleanest set of clothes he could find, Zim barely made it to skool on time for homeroom.

“You should invest in dryer sheets!” An overly bright voice spoke far too close to him. 

Eyes squinted in confused irritation, Zim slowly turned around to find Pip, who apparently did actually share a homeroom with him.

“Speak sense, dirt child.”

Instead of replying, she merely reached towards him, peeling a black sock from his magenta tee-shirt. 

“I’m guessing you didn’t bring this on purpose,” she laughed.

Zim snatched the sock away, shoving it into his PAK. 

“So I heard Missy invited Dib to homecoming. I dunno if he said yes, but word on the street is Jessica plans to ask him too.”

“Why are you telling Zim this?” He hissed, incensed to find that he cared. That his spooch was flipping at the idea of Dib and some _filthy human_ at a dance together.

Pip shrugged nonchalantly. “Just thought you might like to know.”

Something in her eyes reminded Zim of the people he’d seen in various reality television shows. Bored schemers who enjoyed stirring up trouble.

“You know, in case you were planning to ask Dib.” She smiled, setting her chin in her palm.

Zim turned around and ignored her for the rest of class.

Time was dragging on. Irkens didn’t need sleep but he’d gotten into the habit of it over the past couple years, and an entire weekend spent scrunched up in his command chair burning through reading material left him sluggish and fatigued. 

He wandered into his next class, taking the only seat available without sparing any energy on looking around.

“Oh, wow,” Dib’s voice held faux surprise. “You’re sitting by me. Finally done being an asshole?”

“No,” Zim huffed. “And I sit by you at lunch every day.”

“You sit by Gaz every day.”

Zim didn’t bother responding. He wouldn’t have bothered even looking at Dib if he didn’t have the sense of someone staring at him. 

Dib was watching him. Not like he had when they were younger, like he was waiting for Zim to blow the planet up at any moment, but something softer. Sort of curious. 

“What?” Zim bit out.

Dib shrugged, and Zim hated the way his broad shoulders stretched his short sleeve button down. 

“Never seen you in sweatpants before. S’weird.”

Bristling, Zim turned back towards the blackboard. “Zim has many clothing options, Dib-filth. I am quite stylish.”

Dib snorted laughter. “Okay, maybe. Why though? You finally decide to integrate into _filthy, human society_?”

And maybe it was the busy weekend or the discussion he’d had with Gaz on Friday, or maybe it was just that Zim was tired. Tired of hiding everything, tired of keeping all of the disgusting thoughts he now knew without a doubt were _feelings_ locked inside. Either way, instead of the smart ass comment that he wanted to give, all Zim said was:

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Dib sounded startled. “Wow, really?”

“ _What choice do I have_?” Zim hissed, whipping his head towards Dib and leaning over the metal bar of his chair-desk. “My leaders don’t care about me, isn’t that what you said?”

Dib’s mouth was parted and his eyes wide behind his glasses. “I didn’t…”

“You didn’t _what_?” Zim leaned even closer, until their faces were inches apart. “You didn’t know how accurate your assessment was? You didn’t think I was smart enough to figure that out? What is it Dib, what didn’t you do?”

“Zim,” Dib said softly and then his hand was on Zim’s shoulder. Not pushing, just there. “I’m sorry? If what I said...hurt you–”

“Don’t,” Zim jerked backward, away from the gentle touch, sitting back down in his seat. 

He noticed then that his claws were protracted, digging into the wood of the desk. He tried to relax his hands, drawing them back in. The tendons stood out in his wrist as he tried to calm himself, his breath huffing out. 

“Here,” Dib said, before he reached across the aisle and took one of Zim’s hands. “Breath slower, like this.”

He squeezed the pad in the center of Zim’s palm, once, then twice, until Zim followed the rhythm with his breathing and gradually his claws retracted. 

Zim slowly turned to look at Dib, who was watching his hands.

“I didn’t know you had retractable claws,” he said. “Like a cat.”

He pressed again on the pad, smiling stupidly when Zim’s claws extended one more, just a bit.

Zim tore his hand back, holding it in his other. It was warmer now. Humans were so _warm._ Zim looked at Dib questioningly. 

“Breathing technique I learned to deal with stress.”

“What in your pitifully short human life could possibly be stressful?”

Rolling his eyes, Dib didn’t look put out by the comment. “You want a list?”

“Yes,” Zim said immediately. “Make a list.”

Dib grinned. “You’re a weird dude Zim.”

It was a joke. Zim’s PAK told him this. Dib was joking with him – like a friend would. So instead of getting defensive, Zim only agreed.

“You have no idea, Dib-thing.”

Zim took his usual seat next to Gaz for World Lit.

“How’s the existential crisis?” She spoke towards her phone.

“Stupid,” Zim replied.

She nodded, never looking up. “Welcome to life, Zim.”

When the final bell rang, Zim moved faster than he had all day. He was going to go straight home, finally learn if no-nonsense Angeline would be able to tame the wild Tristan, then take a fat nap. 

He was almost out the front door of the skool when he noticed the flyer posted up on the announcement board. Students streamed passed him out the door as he looked at it.

_Homecoming._

The night the smelly dirt children celebrated being back at this awful place with hormone-fueled sports and dancing. 

Zim had never once in his life had a desire to attend. 

As far as he knew, neither of the Membrane children had either.

But now, with various students pawing at Dib like a delicious meat product, Zim thought that might change.

Dib would probably go to the stupid dance with some stupid human who would touch him and try to _caress his throbbing manhood_ like Angeline so clearly wanted to do to Tristan. 

Balling up his hands, Zim tore his gaze from the flyer and finally walked outside, holding up a hand against the blazing sun until his eyes adjusted. 

When he could finally focus, he saw something he’d not seen since last year.

Dib was outside, leaning on the front steps and staring at his phone. He looked up eventually to see Zim and smiled.

_That_ Zim had never seen. 

Warily, he walked down the steps.

“Dib-thing.”

“You doin’ anything?”

“Standing here, obviously.”

Dib rolled his eyes, and Zim wondered how often he did that during the day. It seemed like a lot. Did it hurt?

“Jeez Zim, you don’t have to take everything so literally, you know?”

“You are asking what I am doing, figuratively?”

Snorting a laugh, Dib straightened up and even with Zim standing two steps above him, Dib was taller. 

“Never mind. Look, I got a tip on my conspiracy blog about something in the abandoned mall downtown. I was gonna head down there and check it out. You, uh...wanna come?”

Under his wig, Zim’s antennae tried to stand up straight. 

“What is it?”

“A Fresno Nightcrawler!” He was practically vibrating with excitement. “I mean, the person who posted it thinks so. I gotta check it out!”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never seen one! They’re crazy rare and–”

“No, why are you asking Zim?”

“Oh,” Dib shrugged. “Well uh, if it turns out to really be a Nightcrawler, I dunno how it’ll go down. They’re pretty small but you never know–”

“You want help? Why not ask the female Membrane.” 

“Gaz isn’t into this kind of stuff, and I thought it–fuck, I dunno, it might be fun if we went together. You’re usually pretty...cool, about this kind of stuff.”

“You think I’m cool?” Zim asked, despite the way his body was already burning with the flattery.

“I said _cool about this kind of stuff._ ” Dib huffed. “You’re not even close to cool.”

“Too late! You have declared Zim cool! I will accompany you on this _mission_ and ensure you are not killed by this French nightcrawly thing.”

“A Fresno Nightcrawler!”

“Nonsense, we do not live in Fresno!”

Dib smiled and Zim followed when he headed towards the parking lot. “It’s just called that because it was first spotted in Fresno. They were actually recorded in Native American history forever ago!”

His voice was breathy with excitement, and he kept looking over his shoulder at Zim as they walked towards the student lot and Dib’s car. 

If it could even be called that, Zim thought, when they stopped in front of the massive beast. 

Looking at it, you could tell that it had probably been a junkyard piece of shit when Dib first found it, but with the time and devotion Dib put into it, it was almost impressive now. Big and black, with dark windows and gleaming silver accents. 

Zim had never been inside, though he’d once considered installing security cameras to keep an eye on Dib.

Sitting in the front seat, Zim tried to act like this was normal and he belonged there as Dib buckled in and tapped seemingly random buttons. 

“So what–hey, that’s from Tak’s ship!” Zim pointed to the center display console. 

“Oh yeah, I took a bunch of stuff out of her ship, but the processor is mostly mine. With _some_ help from Gaz.”

“You can’t just–misappropriate Irken tech!”

Dib pulled out of the parking lot, lazily shifting gears in a competent way that pleased Zim for some reason. 

“Who’s gonna tell on me? You?”

“Pfft, like they would listen.” Zim looked out the window, watching the dirty buildings fly by. 

“You uh...not in touch with them anymore?” Dib asked, and Zim hated how gentle it sounded. Like he was trying to be nice, worried about Zim’s fragile _feelings._

“No, I’m not _in touch with them anymore._ ” Zim mocked, holding up two fingers in air quotations. 

“Hey, who taught you sarcasm?” Dib asked with a laugh.

Zim huffed but found he was smiling. “I watch television.”

“So are they like, gone or–”

“Enough talking!” Zim interrupted. “Computer, play the radio. Nothing stupid!”

Recognizing an Irken voice, the computer did exactly as he’d asked. Something lo-fi clicked on. 

Dib shrugged, pulling onto the freeway. They were quiet the rest of the drive.

The parking lot they pulled into was cracked and overgrown with weeds. Zim didn’t know when the mall had shut down but it had been before his time.

“This is weird,” Dib commented, pulling the car between two faded white lines and cutting the engine. “I remember coming here as a kid with Gaz. There was a carousel in the middle of the mall. It seemed like such a big impressive building then but now it just seems...sad.”

Zim didn’t know what a carousel was and didn’t care enough to ask. The building did indeed look sad. Dirty and covered in spray paint, with big sheets of warped, moldy wood in front of the doors.

“Tell me about this thing, this Fresno Nightcrawly.”

“Nightcrawler. And uh, there’s not a lot known. They’re small, smaller than you.”

Zim was pleased by that. 

“They’ve only ever been spotted on cameras, leading some people to believe they’re a hoax. They look sort of like, uh, little vee shapes? They don’t seem aggressive but, you know, no one has ever gotten close enough to say for sure.”

“Do not worry Dib-thing, Zim will protect your fragile human body.”

A look crossed Dib’s face that Zim didn’t recognize, but he said nothing. Together they pried the wood from the doorway, enough to squeeze through. 

Inside were dingy walls covered in yet more graffiti, and animal droppings everywhere they stepped.

“Ugh, the smell is burning my eyes,” Zim complained, rubbing at his contacts until one popped out. 

“It’s ammonia,” Dib told him, pulling the collar of his shirt over his nose. “There must be a shit load of cats in here.”

Zim’s eyes watered, and he pulled the second contact out, shoving them into his PAK. Dib was looking at him when he straightened.

“You, uh, might as well lose the wig. Looks kind of stupid with just that.”

Huffing, Zim threw the wig into his PAK as well, allowing his antennae to stretch up more comfortably. 

“Better, Dib-worm?”

Dib grinned, and Zim pointedly ignored the way it wamed his body. “You still look stupid but I guess there’s no helping that.”

When Zim lunged at him, Dib was already running, thick-soled boots skidding on the broken tiles. 

He followed Dib’s laughter, his PAK legs giving him a chance against Dib’s long-legged stride. Zim had just grasped the back of Dib’s stiff button-down shirt when Dib stopped suddenly.

Zim crashed into his back, his face smooshing right between Dib’s shoulder blades as his metal legs retracted into his PAK.

Cursing under his breath in Irken, Zim pushed Dib aside to see what had caused his frozen state. 

He heard the growling before he really understood what he was seeing, the low noise echoing off the high ceiling of the mall. 

For a minute Zim thought it was the nighcrawlies they were searching out, but these were too big. They sort of looked like dogs. Skinny, dirty ones, with sharp teeth and pointy ears.

“Zim,” Dib whispered. “Don’t move.”

“Eh?” Zim stepped around him, towards the scraggly dogs that were fanning out around them both. “Why are you all stiff and panicky?”

“Zim!” Dib hissed, reaching out to grab Zim’s arm. “They’re fucking coyotes!”

“Kayo-what now?” Zim asked, voice still as loud as ever as he pulled out of Dib’s grasp and moved closer. “It looks like a mangy dog. Get out of here, mangy dog!”

The coyote nearest to him skittered back at the sound of his yelling but lowered it’s head to the ground again and unleashed a massive growl.

The noise triggered an alarm in his PAK, and Zim felt the buzz of something inside, ready to protect him if needed.

Zim turned to look at Dib, to tell him to stop his cowering and continue searching out his paranormal creature.

“Don’t turn your baa–” Dib started, lunging towards Zim with both arms, ready to pull him back, but it was too late. A coyote had taken the opportunity to attack, pouncing towards Zim with its mouth open and snapping. 

Zim couldn’t see this, watching Dib as he was, but his PAK registered the motion and translated it to Zim. He saw the laser gun that was deployed, and the way it took the coyote down before it was even close enough to touch just the same as he saw another coyote dive towards Dib. 

Without much thought, a second gun was deployed, sniping the second coyote. 

Dib turned, eyes wide, to see the dead animal hit the floor with a thud. A clean kill. 

Zim finally turned towards the other coyotes, there were at least four more, but they were already skittering away, their claws scrabbling on the floor. 

“That’s right mangy dogs, run! Run from the mighty Zim!”

The PAK weapons receded just in time for Dib’s arms to wrap around Zim’s waist from behind, hauling him up off the ground. His legs flopped uselessly in the air.

“Zim, that was amazing!” Dib’s voice was loud, right behind him. “You saved us!”

Zim was flushing, the skin on his face turning a darker green as blood pooled under his skin. From the warmth of the human or the sound of his joy, Zim wasn’t sure. Either way, he had to get Dib to stop before he did something stupid. 

“Unhand me!” Zim demanded, shoving his body backward to press his PAK painfully against Dib’s fragile breast bone. 

“Oof,” Dib grunted, dropping Zim back to the floor. He scratched at the back of his head, and Zim noticed that his cheeks were also flushed. “Sorry, uh, kind of got caught up in the excitement.”

Zim dusted imaginary dust off his sweatpants, bending low so that Dib could not see his face. “Yes, yes. Zim saved your life, don’t get used to it.”

“Wow, I can’t believe there were coyotes. I wonder what else is living in here,” Dib looked around, taking in the broken down metal grates that covered some of the storefronts.

Zim looked too, noticing the smeared feces and trash. Humans were disgusting. 

“Come on,” Dib grabbed Zim’s hand, pulling him deeper into the mall.

Zim didn’t fight it, not wrapping his fingers around Dib’s but also not pulling them away. 

It was darker towards the center of the mall, the huge skylight that should have let the sunshine through was caked in mud and vines that spilled through broken cracks, hanging like ropes.

“Oh look, it’s still here.”

Dib gestured towards a massive metal contraption in the open center. Rusted and broken down, with large metal creatures frozen in time. 

“What are those massive beasts attempting to run away?” Zim stepped closer, trying to get a better look.

“They’re horses–well, fake ones.”

“Tristan rides a horse! Though I pictured it...more fearsome.”

“Who’s Tristan?” Dib looked at him curiously.

“No one!” Zim was quick to shout. “Why are these _horses_ in a mall?”

“It’s a carousel. That thing I was telling you me and Gaz used to ride?”

“Ahh, a child’s plaything. Interesting…”

“Is it?” Dib asked. “I guess if you’re trying to uh...live on Earth now, it’s important to learn about these things.”

“Yes, Zim is learning.”

“Come on!” And then Dib was grabbing his hand again, pulling him towards the carousel then up onto it.

“We’re getting _on_ –”

“Yeah, here,” Dib said, grasping Zim around the waist – and Zim couldn’t help noticing the way both of his hands almost spanned the entire thing, his fingers nearly touching in the front – and pushing Zim _up onto_ one of the metal horses. 

“Why am I–” Zim started to ask, but cut off when Dib easily flipped up onto the horse next to him. His feet almost touched the floor while Zim’s dangled at least a foot above.

“If this was still running, the whole thing would slowly spin, and the horses would lift up and down. There’d be music and lights and stuff.”

“And you just...rode the horse? In a circle?”

“Yeah!” Dib laughed. “I guess it sounds kind of stupid but when you’re a kid it’s, I dunno, fun.”

“Fun…” Zim huffed, his hands gripping the metal pole running through the neck of the horse. “You humans are obsessed with that.”

“You guys don’t have fun on Irk?” Dib leaned forward, his face resting against the dirty pole. 

Zim made a face. “We conquered other planets. Serve our Tallest and the Control Brains. Do our jobs successfully and with pride. That’s our _fun._ ”

“That’s not fun, Zim. That’s work.”

“It was fun, sometimes.”

“Do you miss it?”

Zim took a breath, ready to say that yes, he did miss it. It was the only thing he’d ever wanted.

But he found that he couldn’t get the words out. Because it wasn’t true. He didn’t miss it. And with the exception of a few brief moments, it hadn’t been fun either. 

“It doesn’t matter if I miss it. I’ll never be an Invader again.”

Dib was quiet for a moment before he replied. “Well if you can’t be an Invader, at least you can be here, having fun.”

He was grinning, and Zim’s PAK was whirring with nothing but agreement. It spread warmth through his body. 

“Yes, I suppose this is fu–”

“Holy shit,” Dib interrupted in a hissed whisper as he fumbled with his phone, struggling to hold it up straight. “A Fresno Nightcrawler!”

Zim whipped his head in the direction Dib gaze was locked. All he could see were overgrown planters, weeds spilling every which way.

“Eh? Where is the nightcrawly?”

“There, in the plant,” Dib whispered right before him. “It’s small and white, looks like a little upside down vee.”

“I see nothing,” Zim tried to whisper back, scanning the plants. “Where are you–”

Dib’s hands on the sides on his head cut him off. Zim’s antennae stood straight up in surprise while Dib’s hands gently directed his gaze a little lower and to the right.

And then Zim saw it. A tiny little thing with a round head, like a golf ball wearing pants. As Zim watched, it took a slow step forward.

Zim screamed, flailing backward in fear. He heard more than saw Dib fall as well, he was too busy scrambling back, jumping horse to horse to get away from the hideous, evil nightcrawly moving menacingly closer. 

“Zim, stop!” 

Dib tried to grab for him, and only then was Zim aware that his PAK had engaged the laser gun, aiming towards the creature. 

Zim looked frantically towards the planter, but the nightcrawly was gone. 

“I think you scared it away,” Dib laughed as he came towards Zim. “I got it on camera though, you wanna see–”

“Never show me that horrifying beast ever again,” Zim cut him off. 

Dib was still smiling wide, watching Zim.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Dib snorted. “Just thinking about how you took out two coyotes without blinking but that scared you.”

“ _That_ was repulsive. All tiny and...moving,” Zim shuddered. 

“Come on, let’s leave before this place gets dark. More Nightcrawlers might come out.”

This time, Zim grabbed Dib’s hand, pulling him through the mall almost too fast for his long legs to keep up.

Dib dropped him off outside the home base, and Zim tried not to think about how this looked a lot like the dates he’d seen on tv.

“Aww, your friend dropped you off!” GIR greeted him with a bounce, still looking out the window as Dib drove away. 

Zim was finally able to finish his book – Tristan _did_ save Angeline, before confessing his undying love to her – and face plant on the fluffy bed he’d started keeping in his lab a few years back. 

As his PAK shifted into rest mode, Zim’s fuzzy mind conjured sounds of Dib’s laughter while he fell asleep.

+

**Author's Note:**

> this fic would be nothing without the lovely @Feytality, without whom i would be crying in a corner still. thanks for being such a bad bitch
> 
> [I'm on tumblr](http://thinkpinkwrites.tumblr.com)  
> [and twitter too!](https://twitter.com/thinkpinkwrites)
> 
> always a slut for comments, kudos, and attention of any kind :)


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